“Funny. He said the same about you. Different word choice, maybe—” I snickered, remembering Leo calling him adreamboat,“—but same idea.”
“You know what us athletes like to say.” He flashed a cocky smile. “Game recognizes game.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I know he’s not really your boyfriend … but … uh.” He scratched the back of his neck, hesitating to finish his thought. “Since you’re living with him now and all—”
I thought he looked so cute, nervously struggling to get the words out, but I decided to help him out.
“Are you trying to ask if we are ever intimate with each other in our fake relationship?” I asked.
He let out a breath of relief. “Yes. Thank you.”
“The answer is no, we’re not.”
“Nothing at all, huh?” he asked, his eyes darting from the road to study me. “Never a kiss? Not even a cuddle on the couch?”
“No. Nothing. He’s my good friend, and that’s truly it.” I paused. “But Idohave to be honest about something here. Leo and I did have a phase in our early teens where we tried out being boyfriend and girlfriend.”
He chuckled. “Just a tryout, huh?”
“It was definitely a tryout.”
“And how long of a tryout was it?” he asked.
“Two or three years, something like that,” I mumbled.
“I dunno, Ottavia. Three years sounds like an awfully long time for a tryout,” he teased.
“You’re right. Itisa long time. But if you knew the whole story, you’d definitely agree it was a tryout.”
“So what happened?”
I told him how Leo and I had ‘met’ when we were toddlers, how we played all the time as kids, and how, as we grew up together, we both had this idea that we would be married someday.
“Gee, I wonder who put that idea in your head,” he quipped.
“Yep. I know,” I said with a sigh. “I’m still trying to un-fuck my mind because of that one.”
I told him how, when Leo and I were fourteen, we were ready to take our ‘relationship’ to the next level, and declared ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Bet that made ol’ Sal happy, huh?”
“Oh, yes. And not just him.” I snickered. “Practically all my other friends had parents who disapproved of their boyfriends or hated the idea of them dating. Butourparents? Boy, did they love it. And their approval made it all so easy to go along with. Like it was meant to be.” I hung my head. “You know the really sick part? I think if someone had told me that we were ‘arranged’ to be married, it wouldn’t have even made a difference to me. Actually, it would’ve been further proof that we were meant to be. That’s how ‘in love’ I was.”
“Damn,” he grumbled. “Did you really love him?”
“I definitelythoughtso when we first started dating. Looking back, it’s obvious it wasn’t love, but more of a euphoric high we got from our parents being so happy and excited that we were dating. Because of their plans and all.”
He frowned. “Yeah. I can see that.”
“Anyway, eventually, that feeling began to wane, and it became clear that we both wanted different things from life. And it didn’t work out.”
“So you want different things, but he still wants to be married to you. Wow, your lives really went in two different directions, huh?” Dakota snickered cynically. “That sounds fair.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not fair,” I admitted with a sigh. “But that’s why we have an agreement in place.”
Dakota raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the agreement?”
